Anywhere
by V. Emily
Summary: Tony got up from his desk and caught up with her as she continued towards the elevator. "Home? That's kind of boring, don't you think? Being alone is so overrated." Left dateless for the evening, Ziva agrees to accompany Tony downtown - an outing that could lead anywhere. Fan input needed; what do YOU want to see happen? Tell me your Tiva dreams. :D


**Dear readers – **

**It's been forever! Well, more like six months, but still. It **_**feels**_** like forever since I published my last piece (an NCIS story that I created around Christmastime). It's also been just over a year since I wrote my first-ever fan-fiction. Yay, anniversaries! **

**So I guess I owe you an explanation, but that can wait for the end-note. For now, I'll let you read my latest story, which is very short, but I'll be explaining that later as well. **

**-V.**

**DISCLAIMER: I really wish I owned it, but I don't. XP**

* * *

"You look nice."

It was really the understatement of the year. She didn't look _nice_. A little girl dressed up for church looked _nice_; your grandmother with a new hairstyle looked _nice_; your mother going to work looked _nice_. _Nice _means "you look good, but not really good, and it'd be weird for me to say '_fantastic_' to someone I'm related to." _Nice_ means "you look good, but you forgot to put some cover-up on that zit above your eyebrow." _Nice_ is always "you look good, _but_…"

You never say Ziva David looks _nice_. There are no buts about it. That evening, she looked _fantastic_. And _fantastic _is one of those adjectives that leave no room for an observation of faults.

What a shame she just wasn't dressed up for him.

Tony had been pretending to do work at his desk for the past hour. It had started out with him actually filling out paperwork, half because he needed to and half to take his mind off of the fact that Ziva was, at that very moment, preparing for a date. But after a while, that thought – that very soon, she'd be at some restaurant with some other guy – took over and distracted him from his mission reports entirely.

And now here she was, standing at her desk and shoving things into her purse, and she looked _fantastic._

He should've told her that. He should've said how utterly wonderful he thought she looked in that simple brown dress and white scarf, should've said how whoever she was going out with tonight was one lucky man. He should've told her "_good luck,"_ or "_have a nice time_," even though they both knew he was so painfully jealous.

But he only said, "You look nice," and he wanted Gibbs to appear, because right now he felt he truly deserved a head slap.

"Thank you," said Ziva. She was just about to add something onto her remark when her cellphone rang from inside her purse. She dug it out and answered the call.

"Hello?"

Tony watched her from his desk, not even attempting to hide his eavesdropping. Ziva scowled at him as she listened to the person on the other end.

"Oh," she said after a moment. "I am sorry. …No, I understand. Perhaps another time. …Yes. Goodnight."

Tony set his pen down and raised his eyebrows as Ziva hung up.

"So, was that your mystery date?" Tony asked.

"Yes, it was, and our conversation is none of your business."

Tony ignored that last part. "Did he cancel on you?" He didn't wait for her answer, only said, "He did! That's too bad." It was almost sad how much he didn't mean it.

She slung her clutch over one shoulder and shrugged. "It is nothing. We will go out another night."

"Wait, are you still leaving?"

"Of course. I am going home. Good night, Tony."

And she walked out of the bullpen.

"Hey!"

Tony got up from his desk and caught up with her as she continued towards the elevator. "Home? That's kind of boring, don't you think? Being alone is so overrated."

She gave him an irritated glance, stopped walking, and turned to face him fully. "What is it you are trying to ask?"

"Well, I mean, since you don't seem to have plans anymore-"

"I do have plans. I am going home."

"Yeah, but like I said, that's a little boring. You're all dressed up for a date, and you look really nice – not that this is a date or something…"

"Tony."

"Right, get to the point. I was going to go catch a movie downtown, and since you don't have a date, I thought maybe you'd tag along?" He smiled expectantly as Ziva mulled it over.

"Which movie?" she asked.

"Oh, uh...well, whatever you want to see, I guess."

"You do not even know what is playing, do you? You were not planning on going to the movies at all."

Sometimes he forgot the dangers of lying to a trained investigator. But it was true: his plans for the evening had consisted of staying home and wallowing in overrated loneliness, maybe flipping through his old magazines or something. Or building a boat. That seemed to be the new thing for lonely guys to do. It'd have to be a model boat, though; there wasn't room for the real thing in his apartment.

"Maybe I wasn't," he admitted. "But now I've kind of got my heart set on it."

She took an almost cruel amount of time to decide. "Fine," she said at last. "But you are buying dinner."

"Dinner, check."

"And we are taking your car."

"Are you sure we can't take your new-"

"Yes."

"Got it. My car."

In truth, he was prepared to agree to anything.

As they rode together in the elevator, Tony looked over at her and wondered if it was too early to hold her hand. Probably. He just had to pace himself; there was no need to rush this just because she finally seemed to have agreed to go out with him. This wasn't even really a _date, _per say, just a night out with his best friend.

Still, a thrill ran through his veins. It was the fresh, exciting, and unmistakable sense that the whole night was ahead of them – a white canvas, a blank sheet, a directionless evening that could go anywhere.

* * *

**Hey, all! So I know this chapter was verrrry short, but**** I don't have a lot of time to write this morning and I'm kind of back to testing the waters with fan fiction. Since about sometime last fall, I've had this terrible case of writer's block in pretty much every area of fiction, and it's been driving me insane. I can't write **_**anything **_**(except bad poetry, and I'm getting so, so**** tired of bad poetry, guys). But I am resolved to get out of it, and I'm coming to you all to ask for a little bit of motivation.**

**Yep! I want to know what **_**you**_** would prefer to see happen in the next chapter. The reader is always right, right? So if you please, I would love a review/PM with your ideas. It could be something as simple as what movie you want them to go to, or something as complicated as "turn this into a twenty-chapter angst story wherein one of them has a near-death experience." Tell me your Tiva dreams (whilst keeping in mind that I do not write M-rated fiction) and I shall try my best to incorporate at least small aspects of them. :) **

**Thank you so much in advance. It feels good to be back!**

**-V.**


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